


Rooftop Lovenest Drabbles

by stillgoldie1899



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: F/M, Rooftop Lovenest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillgoldie1899/pseuds/stillgoldie1899
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles of Jack/Sarah (Also known as Rooftop Lovenest)</p><p>Mostly just snogging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Alley

His fingers were tangled in her hair, gently tugging her head back so that when his lips broke away from hers, they could easily move to her throat. As petulant as her whimper of protest was, her main problem wasn’t that he was tugging her hair, it was that he wasn’t kissing her anymore, although she gratefully used the break to catch her breath.

 

They shouldn’t have been kissing like that in the small, cramped, dark alley anyway, they were going to get caught at it, it was the middle of the damn day. But she didn’t really care much, and she knew he didn’t either, and who could blame him for having tugged her into the alley in the first place? She’d been teasing him all through their walk, her fingers brushing lightly along his arm, slightly firmer than a tickle, but not by much.

 

Pulled back to the moment by his teeth grazing her neck, she gasped, just lightly, and pulled him closer, although he couldn’t get much closer than he already was, pinning her to the brick wall behind her. He was so close she could feel his heart thundering against his chest, her own pulse racing to the same beat.

 

They both knew they didn’t have a lot of time, they were supposed to be bringing the bread in her basket, abandoned on a crate next to her, back for dinner, and they’d be missed if they took much longer, but these stolen moments were so difficult to come by without being obvious that they took advantage of them whenever possible.

 

And try as she might to keep track of the time, he was just too distracting, his fingers sliding free of her hair, to the side of her neck he wasn’t peppering with kisses, his thumb gently pulling her chin just a bit, to give him more neck to kiss, to nip at, careful to not leave a mark, not wanting to give themselves away.

 

That frustrated her a bit, and without thought, her fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse, undoing the top ones just enough to allow him to push the stiff fabric, and her undershirt, to the side, bearing at least part of her shoulder. Easier to conceal there, and rightly taking her actions as an invitation, he bit the soft skin there a bit more firmly. Her whimpering half-moan only spurred him on, sucking gently. She felt completely lost at the soft warmth of his lips, his tongue against her skin, the sharp counterpoint of his teeth pressing into her, knowing he was marking her, a physical reminder, something to bring her back to this moment, heady and heated.

 

The fingers of his other hand, previously politely kept at her waist, began an upwards migration, his thumb brushing back and forth along her side, quickly inching upwards. He would have eventually made his way up to her breasts if they hadn’t been rudely interrupted.

 

“Jaaaaack? Saaaarah? Where are you? Ma sent me to find you…” Les’s voice, just faintly heard caused them to jump apart like startled rabbit, and while he was grinning recklessly, she knew she was already bright red as her fingers fumbled to do her buttons back up again. His laughter was actually frustrating, and the moment she was back in order, she hit his arm, a little hard, hissing at him to be quiet, it wasn’t funny. Snatching up the basket, she hurried off to meet her little brother before he appeared at the end of the alley, leaving Jack to catch up, whistling tunelessly, his hands in his pockets, looking far too pleased with himself than he had any right to be.


	2. the Rooftop

His lips were surprisingly soft, even as they incessantly pressed against hers, spreading as his tongue teased her own lips apart. He was stealing her breath away, and she was getting drunk off of the feel of it. His fingers grazed along her throat, gently tugging buttons undone, and she only noticed in as far as the fact his hands were on her.

 

There was a slight whimpering, and it took her a moment to realize it was coming from her own throat. And when she pulled away from his lips to catch her breath, it came in a gasp, aware she was flushed, her chest heaving, pressed against his.

 

When she met his eyes, for just a moment, she could see the desperation in them, the need, the understanding that this was likely as far as she was going to let him get tonight, and while he wanted more, he wouldn’t press her, he had never pressed her to do more than she was willing. And it made her knees weak, that look, knowing she’d caused that look, knowing he’d go back to the lodging house that night and dream about her, the kind of dreams boys didn’t talk about, even to each other.

 

She wasn’t trying to be a tease. She wanted it as much as he did. But that just wasn’t how it was done. She had to wait, until she got married, it was how things worked. And it would have been simple to say, alright, then no more kissing, not like this. But that would mean giving up kissing him, giving up the dizzy feeling of weightlessness, the way he’d half-pick her up while they were locked in each other’s arms, the feel of him pressing her against the closest wall, so hard she sometimes worried her back would bruise. Giving that up was impossible.

 

Without thinking about it any further, she pulled him back down, kissing him again, although her lips were already feeling a little bruised, swollen with kisses. And she didn’t stop him when he got just a few more of her buttons undone, his fingers slipping under her blouse, brushing against bare skin, his cold fingers making her gasp against her hot skin.

 

She knew she should stop him, he was taking things a bit too far, but she wanted him to keep going, she wanted more as well. Her own fingers hooked in his belt, pulling him closer by the rough rope he tied around his waist when he wasn’t using it to hold papers, the knot at the front an absurd complication she could never have hoped to get undone, even if she wanted to. She was, admittedly, a little afraid of that, of what came after she got that belt undone, after the clothes were out of the way. She’d asked her mother, and her mother had told her, in basic terms, explained a bit more than the gossip she got from the other girls. Still, it scared her a bit. As much as she wanted it, it scared her.

 

The angle of his hand under her blouse was awkward, but it didn’t stop him from teasing the tops of her breasts, held firmly in place by a corset, just a simple, cheap one, but it did it’s job well. So well that even if she could have caught a breath, it wouldn’t have been a big one. But he wasn’t as interested in her breathing, and more in the soft give of the skin at the top of her breasts, and inching further down, wiggling under the edge of the corset, searching.

 

She stopped him, finally, before he could get any further, catching his wrist with her hand, pulling away from his lips, flushed, gasping, but shaking her head. There was disappointment on his face, but he still grinned at her, pleased he’d gotten as far as he had, and dropping a light kiss on her lips, before moving to button her blouse back up. And as he did, he brushed his lips against her ear, and whispered. One of these days…One of these days she wouldn’t stop him. One of these days, she’d be his wife.


End file.
